


Just Breathe

by Joyful



Category: Glee
Genre: Community: glee_angst_meme, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyful/pseuds/Joyful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel has severe asthma and bad allergies, but she doesn't want the other kids to know.  Based on a prompt on both the angst meme and the fluff meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: http://community.livejournal.com/glee_angst_meme/4263.html?thread=6368167#t6368167 I set this somewhere around Furt, so that the events in Special Education haven't happened yet. Kurt is still at McKinley.

“You've got your puffer, sweetie?” Malachi Berry asked his daughter as she picked up her backpack and got ready to leave. It was a force of habit, he asked her every day, though she wasn't likely to forget it.

“Yes Daddy, I have it,” Rachel promised.

“And your epi-pen?”

“Yes Daddy, promise. I know how to take care of myself,” she reassured him.

“I know, Baby, I just worry about you. You've got your phone?”

“Right here,” she said, waving it before slipping it into her pocket. She leaned over to kiss her Daddy on the cheek.

“Alright, Princess, have a good day at school,” Malachi said. “Give your Papa a hug and kiss on your way out.”

“Yes Daddy,” Rachel said, stopping by the study to give her other father a hug and kiss on the way out.

Thomas Berry was sitting at his desk, going over a legal brief, when his daughter came in to say goodbye.

“I'm going to school now, Papa,” she said.

“Alright. Do you have glee club practice today?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“How does your chest feel today? Think you can sing?”

“Yes, it's good. I'll be okay.”

“Alright. Remember, if the dancing is too much, stop. It's okay to take breaks when you need them,” Thomas reminded his daughter.

“I know,” Rachel said, leaning down and hugging her Papa and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She checked the daily pollen count on her iPhone, then she headed out to her car. At sixteen, almost seventeen, Rachel had been dealing with her health her whole life. It started when she was almost a year old and her fathers began weaning her onto solid food. The strained spinach caused her throat to close up and she'd almost died. They'd taken her to be allergy tested, and it turned out she had a very long list of allergies. So that's when the health-food started. Her fathers learned how to cook organic, gluten-free, dairy free, preservative-free meals in an effort to keep their daughter alive and healthy.

The asthma was discovered when she was three. She wanted so badly to take dance classes like the other kids, but when she did too much physical activity, she wound up in the hospital. Rachel's early life was defined by medicines and special diets, shots and hospital treatments. She never had to go to gym class, so she had extra time to focus on her studies, which was good because she missed a lot of school for health reasons. She had special paper masks to wear if the pollen count was too high, or if she was around somebody who was sick. The kids in glee club thought she was overreacting when she wore a paper mask while the monkey flu was going around school, but they didn't understand. They didn't know what it was like to not be able to breathe. And she didn't want them to know.

It wasn't too hard to cover up. When she had shortness of breath or tightness in her chest, and she needed to use her inhaler, she excused herself to the bathroom. On the rare occasion she had a friend over in her room, she hid the nebulizers and oxygen under the bed, and put all the pills and inhalers in the medicine cabinet. Her medical alert pendant was on a long enough chain that she could hide it under her shirts. If people asked why she didn't drink milk or eat pizza it was easy to say she was on a diet, or watching her weight. That was a completely normal thing that teenage girls did, right?

Rachel loved to sing. Her fathers had been worried about it at first, because of her breathing troubles, but it was something that had become her passion. Her doctors had promised her that as long as she was careful, and kept her medications on her at all times, she should be able to do some singing and dancing. In fact, singing lessons might help her improve her lung capacity. She had to be careful with the dancing, though, and know her limits. A little okay, but too much exertion and everything would inflame. Her lungs would close up and her ability to take in oxygen would disappear. But she was good at knowing her limits. She had always been rather high strung, so her fathers had her study meditation techniques. She learned how to slow her breathing down, and how to calm down when she was panicking. When she was little, the attacks would become worse because as soon as one started she would begin to panic. As she got older she learned how to calm herself. How to not freak out in public, how to make it to the nurse's office or the bathroom while her lungs were closing, so she could use her inhaler without prying eyes. She'd managed to hide her disease from her friends and acquaintances for years. She'd even been dating Finn for several months without him realize how sick she could be. And if people wanted to assume that Rachel was a vegan for moral reasons, that was fine with her. They didn't know that she couldn't eat most meat or have dairy because many farms gave their animals antibiotics, that she was horribly allergic to. And if the cheerleaders thought she was being snotty when she covered her face while they sprayed their perfumes, she'd let them. Finn was really understanding when she told him the scent of Axe made her sick, though he hadn't taken it as serious as it was.

Rachel parked her car in the parking lot and shouldered her backpack. She stepped out of the car and walked into school with her head held high. Today was going to be a good day. Their glee assignment had been to pick a song that always made you smile, no matter what was going on in your life. After several hours of pouring over her Barbra albums she decided on “People,” and she knew she could kill that song. And she was looking forward to see what song Kurt had chosen. She and Kurt didn't always get along, but she usually enjoyed his taste in music, and he had a killer set of pipes on him. She frequently envied his breath control. She'd probably never have that level of control, considering the scarring in her lungs. She went to her locker and got ready for class.

*****

It started slowly. Lunch had been good, since she packed it herself. She didn't want to risk eating something prepared by a stranger. It could have come in contact with something to give put her into anaphylaxic shock. Then, in the hallway, Tasha Erickson was spraying perfume all over herself to cover up the smell of the cigarettes she smoked behind the porta-pottys during lunch, and some of it got in Rachel's face. She felt the tightening in her chest almost immediately, but she was going to late to Chemistry, so she worked on her slow breathing, and her concentrating, trying to will her lungs to stay open, will her breathing steady. It wasn't a full-blown asthma attack yet, and if she could manage it without medication, it would prove to herself how grown up she could be.

She didn't pay full attention in her last two classes—and actually felt bad about it—but the school day was over and she was concentrating on her breathing so she could make it through glee. After class but before practice she stopped in the bathroom to use her inhaler. It might make her tired, but she needed to be able to breathe to sing. She pulled her inhaler out and wrapped her lips around the end. She pressed down on the cartridge and...nothing. It was empty.

The fear started to sink in, but Rachel tried to override it. If she let herself panic, it would only get worse. _Keep calm,_ she told herself, _The nurse keeps one in her office for you._ She walked, slowly to the nurse's office, only to find the office closed. The school day was technically over, so the nurse had gone home for the day. The school could barely afford to have a nurse at all, so how could they afford to keep one after hours, just in case of emergencies during extracurriculars? It made sense, but Rachel was still starting to panic.

 _Keep calm._ she repeated to herself. It was unfortunate, but she'd just have to skip glee club. She might have an extra rescue inhaler in her car, but if she didn't, she could go home. Mr. Schuester would understand. She'd bake some 'I'm Sorry' cookies for the club, and she'd even use the white flour she wasn't supposed to eat.

“Mr. Schuester,” Rachel said slowly, in a quiet voice. “I need to go home.”

“Rachel, I'm disappointed in you,” Mr. Schuester said. “Just because I'm letting Santana sing first doesn't mean you get to do what you want. We're a team here, and you need to treat your friends with respect. It's not all about you, so please sit down and wait your turn.”

Rachel nodded, not even having the energy to put up a fight. Her chest was so tight. At least he wasn't going to make her sing, she just had to sit quietly and listen to other people sing, then she could go home and use her nebulizer. She was seriously going to need it. She really wanted her medicine though, staying calm was hard, and taking in a full breath was getting harder and harder.

She sat down, though, and listened to Santana sing. She didn't recognize the song, but she tried to focus. Santana had such good breath control, Rachel was jealous. Finn was sitting next to her, holding her hand. After Santana was finished it was Artie's turn next, and Rachel hated to admit she didn't know his song either. She barely paid attention to Artie singing. It was getting worse. Her chest hurt.

She tried to breathe in, but no oxygen was getting in. Instinctively, she started breathing faster, but little if any oxygen was actually entering her blood stream. She couldn't breathe, her anxiety level was rising. She didn't want to do this, but she had to. She didn't think she could talk, breathing was so difficult. She took out her phone and typed a text message. She put Finn, Kurt and Mercedes in the name bar, then typed out her request.

 _**Please call 911. I can't breathe and my asthma inhaler is empty.** _

The text message was sent and she heard them go off. Mr. Schue was incredibly irritated.

“Guys, this is totally rude. Put your phones away while Artie is singing.”

“Mr. Schue, Rachel says she can't breathe. She wants us to call 911,” Finn said.

“I'm already dialing,” Mercedes said. The music stopped as everyone gathered around Rachel. She was hunched over, gasping. She clutched her empty asthma inhaler in one hand and was fishing under her sweater with the other, for the pendant on her chain.

“Please,” Quinn said, “She's just faking 'cause Mr. Schue didn't ask her to go first.”

“I don't think she's faking,” Tina observed, watching Rachel gasp and wheeze.

Rachel pulled her necklace out from under her sweater and thrust the pendant at Finn.

“What's that thing?” Brittany asked.

“It looks like a Med-Alert pendant,” Artie said, wheeling closer. “I've never noticed Rachel wearing it before.”

“Hid...it,” Rachel gasped. “Suh....veer....az...muh,” she managed to gasp out between attempts at drawing breath.

Kurt had made his way over to Rachel the minute he'd gotten the text. He sat next to her and started rubbing her back gently.

“Rachel,” Mike said, kneeling down in front of her. “Do you have a spare inhaler?”

“Glove box. Car,” she gasped out.

“Where are her keys?” Mike asked Finn, who dug through his girlfriend's purse, a terrified look on his face. He found them and handed them to Mike who sprinted out of the choir room.

“Yes,” Mercedes said on the phone, “I'm at William McKinley High School, in the choir room. A student is having a bad asthma attack and doesn't have her inhaler.” Mercedes nodded to herself then turned to her friends. “The ambulance is on it's way.”

“Rachel, you should have told me,” Mr. Schue said. “I would have let you go home if I'd known you were sick.”

“No...special...treatment,” Rachel said. “Only...want...what...I...deserve.”

“Stop talking,” Finn said. “You can tell us everything later. Just breathe.”

“She can't, Finn, don't you understand what asthma is?” Santana asked, rolling her eyes. “Her lungs are all inflamed. She needs steroids to shrink the swelling so she can get oxygen in.”

“How do you know that?” Finn asked her, still holding Rachel's hand.

“My sister has asthma,” Santana said. “And Rachel's about to fall out of the chair. Help her lay down on the floor. On her stomach will be easier to breathe than on her back.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and he wrapped his arms around his small, shaking girlfriend and helped her lay down on the floor.

“You should have told us,” Tina said, “You're our friend.”

“I kinda get why she didn't, though,” Artie said.

“Rachel, what's this?” Finn asked, pulling the epi-pen from her purse, “Will it help?” Her head was tilted to the side, on Finn's lap, while she laid on her stomach.

“No,” Rachel said quietly.

“That's an epi-pen,” Sam said. “I carry one in case I accidentally eat something with peanuts in it. I'm allergic.”

“My ex-wife has a peanut allergy too,” Will mused, almost to himself.

“What's Berry allergic to?” Puck asked, curiously.

“Everything,” Rachel whispered. Nobody had anything to say to that.

Mike came back into the choir room with an inhaler in his hand. Rachel was barely conscious when he tried to hand it to her. Santana snapped to attention then, taking the inhaler from Mike and crouching down next to Rachel. She shook the inhaler, then uncapped it and held it to Rachel's lips. Rachel opened her mouth for the inhaler.

“Okay, breathe,” Santana said, pushing down the cartridge. She waited about fifteen seconds, then pressed it again, “Breathe.”

Rachel inhaled the medicine gratefully, but it wasn't enough. It had been a serious asthma attack, and the albuterol wasn't giving her the instant relief it normally supplied.

“Why isn't it working?” Finn asked, panic in his voice.

“It was a really bad attack,” Santana surmised. “The paramedics will be here soon. Do you want another dose, Rachel, tap my hand once if you do.”

Rachel tapped Santana's hand with her finger, and Santana pressed down the cartridge another two times, while Rachel tried to take in the medicine. They heard sirens about that time.

“Puck, Mike, go show the paramedics where to go,” Mr. Schue instructed. Puck and Mike ran out of the room.

“It's going to be okay, Rachel,” Kurt said, still gently rubbing circled on Rachel's back. “They're almost here, and they'll make you better.”

“Don't die, okay Rachel?” Brittany said from a few feet away, fear in her voice. “You dress like you're home-schooled and you're kinda bossy, but you're still my friend, and I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“What Brittany said,” Artie said.

“Totally,” Sam said. “You're part of our team, which means we've got your back. And you can trust us with stuff in the future.”

“Hurry up,” Puck shouted in the hallway. “Go faster, my friend is sick!”

“Calm down kid, it's going to be okay,” one of the paramedics said. They rushed into the room with their stretcher and their kits and started working over.

“Oh, Rachel, it's you,” the same paramedic said. “It's been so long since I've seen you, I hoped you were doing better.”

The other paramedic moved for a drug, but the first one stopped him.

“No, not that one she's allergic. Check her Med-Alert tag.”

“Hi, Roger,” Rachel managed to get out as the paramedic picked her up and put her on the gurney.

“Hey, kid. When did it start?”

“After lunch,” Rachel whispered, as the paramedic slid some plastic tubing over her face and turned on the oxygen. The other paramedic gave her an injection. Between the two steps, she already looked better.

“She had four puffs of albuterol,” Santana said, “But only a few minutes ago.”

“Has anyone called her parents yet?” Roger asked.

“I'll call them,” Kurt said, dialing the number. It worried him to see Rachel so familiar with the paramedic. When Roger said something to the other paramedic about scarring in Rachel's lungs, Kurt winced.

“We're going to take her to St. Vincent's,” Roger said. “Tell them to meet us there.”

“Rachel, get better,” Tina said.

“Yeah,” Mercedes said. “You need to be able to breathe to sing, and we like it when you sing.”

“You're our friend, Rachel,” Quinn confirmed, “Even when I'm mean to you. Feel better.”

“Alright, we're going to the hospital now,” Roger said, making sure Rachel was carefully strapped in.

“Rachel, if you need to skip practice for the rest of the week, I understand,” Mr. Schuester said.

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “Can Finn ride with me?”

“Alright,” Roger said, but only one person. Finn picked up Rachel's purse and followed the paramedics as they pushed the gurney out to the ambulance.

Rachel was exhausted. The pure oxygen was helping, and she just wanted to fall asleep. She couldn't help but smile. For the first time in her life, she had friends. And they cared. Finn held her hand the whole way to the hospital, and even when she slept, the smile stayed on her face.

*end*


End file.
